


The Ache of Remembrance

by MaryBerry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Amnesia, Angst, Destiny is hard guys, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Good Mordred (Merlin), It's sort of both post and pre relationship, M/M, Magic, Magic Induced Amnesia, Magic Revealed, Merlin loves Gwaine too but has to be angsty about it, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mordred deserved better, Non-Chronological, POV Alternating, Pining Gwaine (Merlin), Post-Break Up, Post-Magic Reveal, Temporary Amnesia, but not really, gwaine loves merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryBerry/pseuds/MaryBerry
Summary: Gwaine was used to the feeling of loneliness, had thrived in filling that hole with ale and women while travelling freely. He thought that feeling ended when he picked up a sword to spend his days fighting by Arthur's side. And for a long time it had. For the first time in ages, he felt like he had everything he needed in one place.So why did he suddenly feel like he's lost everything? Is it possible to lose someone you've never met?
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	1. Lost

Gwaine was used to feeling empty. 

He had lived the majority of his life living aimlessly, wandering from tavern to inn with no commitments and nothing to tie him down to one place. He had tried to be happy this way, after all, who didn’t long for that sort of freedom? But as the years passed, the ale could no longer cloud the dreary truth of his lack of purpose, and the women could only replace companionship for a lay, a night if he was lucky. 

It wasn’t until Arthur found him that he’d truly been able to acknowledge all he lacked. The quests, knighthood, a king worth dying for, he’d found a reason to keep going beyond his next drink or gamble. He had companions, a place to settle down every night, just about everything he’d been missing, he had now. 

So why was it that recently, day by day, the dull ache of that emptiness was returning, stronger than ever before? 

Things had become strange around the castle ever since the last magic attack Arthur and the knights had dealt with. Morgana had sent a witch to try to trap the king into a curse, and they had only managed to escape and defeat them through pure luck. Arthur truly had to be the luckiest man in the world, the earth almost seemed to move just for him sometimes. Gwaine recalls feeling bitter about how Arthur had the entire world wrapped around his finger, but he can’t deny it’s gotten them out of more than a few binds. 

That mission had gone just as well as any other, better than usual even. Arthur had barely even been close to dying, no one was lost or captured, and almost a fortnight later they were yet to see any signs of a lingering curse or threatening new presence. Yet each morning since, he’d felt more and more… off. Today in particular, Gwaine was noticing the unexplained ache in his chest at every turn. 

The day had started normally enough, on the way to training he was greeted by a kitchen maid who traded him an extra apple for a charming smile. As much as he hated titles, he had to acknowledge what wonders it did for his likeability. Back before knighthood- before Arthur- he might have been able to charm someone into his bed, but he’d have never been met with favors and bright grins. Yet her smile set off that dull pain. A voice in the back of his head called it wrong. As though another smile, another face, should have been there instead. 

Gwaine could only characterize the pain he carried as heartbreak, but that couldn’t be. Emptiness, he knew well. Longing, he recognized. But how could he feel the pain of love lost, when he’d never known love in the first place? It was the first time he’d found a name to fit the feeling, and the weight of it followed him through the day. It distracted him as he trained in the morning. It stopped him where he would have flirted with a passing maiden. It slowed him as he walked through Camelot, searching every face for that missing link. A fruitless effort, to be sure. It must take a madman to search for someone you’ve never known. 

Weeks continue to pass, and the longing grows familiar, always there but sometimes able to be forgotten. He can distract himself throughout the day between training and dances with death that always seem to be narrowly avoided in the most unnatural ways. But at night he can’t escape the sudden pangs of deep seeded hurt. His dreams sometimes taunt him with a familiar yet unrecognizable smile, or a flash of golden eyes. Nothing he could tie to any face he sees, never enough to bring back a lost memory. He clings to those glimpses to get him through the days. Even if it’s all an invention of his newly deranged mind, they give him something concrete to seek. A dream he can hope to one day reach. He expects nothing of it, but they bring him closer to peace. There is one day where he feels particularly wistful about a pair of bright blue eyes he remembered from the night before. They carry him through as Arthur informs him and the other knights that they will be facing a group of Morgana’s men. Nothing he hasn’t faced before, but his usual strength had taken a hit since the recent developments. He didn’t like relying on his fellow knights to get them through battle, and they couldn’t rely on the common absurdly fortunate falling objects or spontaneous fires and floods to save them every time. 

As the group confronted these men in the woods, a conversation turned to battle. Gwaine fought his best, but as always men were tripping on roots that hadn’t been there before; branches fell onto their enemies heads; and as one man got concerningly close to slicing his neck, he could not deny when he saw an entire tree fall from perfect stillness at a perfect angle to just miss him and knock the other man out cold. He knew no force of nature had done that on its own. 

“Wow, that sure was a close one, ey?” Arthur seems oblivious as ever as he pats Gwaine’s shoulder for a battle well won, but Gwaine can’t bring himself to call attention to the obvious display of magic he just saw. He doesn’t think it was one of the knights, but whoever it was had clearly been on their side from the start. His mind flashes back to the image of flashing golden eyes. 

“Gwaine? You alright?” Percival asks.

Gwaine shakes himself back to reality, “yeah. It’s getting dark isn’t it? You all start making camp, I’ll keep first watch.”

“You sure?” Arthur starts again, “you did well today, I’m sure we’d be fine without a lookout-“

“We don’t know if Morgana plans to send reinforcements. I’ll be alright, you all should rest.”

The group looks at him skeptically, but all allow themselves to rest after setting up camp. Gwaine keeps his eyes wide, searching for any sign of movement as they set up. When the rest of the group goes to sleep, he hurries to scavenge the area looking for something-anything-to hint at another person hiding among them. Hours pass, and he almost reluctantly admits the need to give up. Then he hears it. The faintest rustling of leaves above him. He hesitates to look up. 

In the sight of bright blue eyes, a weight is lifted.


	2. Found

Merlin was a man who had no room left for love. His mind was drowned by magic and deceit, and his soul was bound by destiny. He had tried to squeeze it in once, long ago, had crafted a room in the corners of his heart to allow a guest. Freya had been so kind, never asking more than he could offer, only accepting and returning what he gave gracefully. But even that had been too much. How foolish he had been to try and compromise with fate. He’d been too greedy, had tried to create his own life, his own future apart from the one written for him. Arthur may have been the one to deliver the killing blow to Freya, but it had been destiny that took her away. As a punishment, and a reminder, to never question his role in the narrative. His life was not his story to create, it had been crafted for him long before he existed, and was about someone far more important than himself. He had no right to concern himself with the mortal matters of his own heart.

He knew better than to make the same mistake with Gwaine. When the other man had greeted him with a cheeky grin as he knocked out his third opponent, Merlin had felt the incoming twinge of feelings that could be. If only he allowed himself. If only he led a different life. He’d experienced these passing thoughts before, but could always count on the fleetingness of any companionship not bound by prophecy. 

“I never stay in one place for too long,” Gwaine had told him after his banishment. Merlin was not one to plead with people to stay, but he thought maybe if he could just convince him that Arthur was good, that Arthur may not be worth dying for but he could at least be worth _staying_ for, he might be able to keep this one around. Merlin couldn’t keep people by his side, but Arthur surely could. Yet even that hadn’t been enough, and Merlin resigned himself to his predetermined life once more. 

Then the pair met again, and Merlin was once again hit with the pain of the impossible as the two spoke in the perilous lands. “Not Arthur,” Gwaine had said to him, as though Merlin was ever to be allowed to be the priority. The universe had taunted him with this short lived reunion, separating them again as punishment for allowing himself to try to branch away from his path. 

Their third encounter was different. It started off much the same: another fight, another quest-

“Rise, Sir Gwaine of Camelot”

And then it all changed.

Of course, he didn’t have a chance to celebrate. Even in what should have been one of his happiest moments, the looming consequences of not following destiny’s commands were still threatening their every movement. Morgana had taken control of Arthur’s rightful kingdom, and somehow it was Merlin’s fault for failing to kill the woman he had once called a friend. Who’s first crime had only been having magic and being afraid, no different from his own beginnings. Except Merlin had been given guidance and been written on the right side of the future. On Arthur’s side.

So even with this development, there was no room for error. Personal choice would always be punished. Merlin could not risk working against what was written. He would congratulate Gwaine when they inevitably won the day. Their friendship may be allowed to tentatively continue. They might be allowed to bond over their shared role in Arthur’s journey, and fate may leave Gwaine free enough to have a story of his own. But sooner or later, Gwaine would surely have to abandon the idea that Merlin was ever the one to prioritize. He imagined that when they returned to Camelot, when Gwaine would eventually have to make his knightly vows, the other man’s priorities would soon be set in order and Merlin could again find comfort in his rightful place. Quietly fighting in the background. Protecting the few people he still could. 

But he just. 

Kept. 

Failing. 

Lancelot’s death had been the biggest surprise of them all. Yes, he had respected Merlin knowing all he did for them, but his loyalty was to Arthur. Where it was supposed to be. And yet he’d still lost one of the only people he didn’t have to spend his life hiding from. He couldn’t. Stop. Losing people. 

So when Gaius disappeared, he was all but broken down. And nobody was on his side. 

“I got tired of playing soldiers. Came to see how you were.”

This was almost worse. And of course Merlin tried to push him away. But Gwaine stayed, and when together they managed to get Gaius back, that hint of feeling came back. The dangerous lurking hope that maybe he could be allowed to keep someone around. 

They spoke again at Gwen’s coronation. The air felt weightless and bright for the first time in ages and the kingdom was finally starting to feel like their own once again. 

“Today’s a celebration of love” Gwaine said, holding out a glass of wine for Merlin to take to match his own. 

“To love” Merlin toasted as he took a drink. 

“Dance with me?” 

“Of course”

Dancing and drinking with Gwaine throughout the night felt easy instead of dangerous. And when Gwaine kissed him it felt… inevitable, yet impossible. 

“Was that alright?” Gwaine asked him, still swaying with the music and looking gently into Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin gulped, “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic isn't abandoned by the way! So this chapter was supposed to advance the plot a lot more (or I guess establish it more? Since it's the past? Idk the lack of chronology is confusing me lol) all the way up to how Gwaine lost his memory, but I got halfway through and realized it was already longer than the first chapter. So now this fic is gonna be like 7 or 8 chapters instead of 3 and that means the structure I had in mind isn't gonna work out but that's _fine_ it's all _fine_.
> 
> I'm on finals week at school so no promises but _hopefully_ that means I'll have more time to get something resembling a consistent upload schedule. Wish me luck :/


	3. Return

“...Hi,” Gwaine started, visibly unsure of himself, “would you maybe want to get out of that tree?” 

The other man anxiously avoided eye contact, glancing around as if trying to figure a way out of there that didn’t involve climbing down. 

”I’d like to thank you properly. For saving us back there,” Gwaine tried again. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mystery man seemed to be trying his best to look neutral despite the panic in his eyes. “My Lord,” he added, seemingly as an afterthought. His voice brought an unwarranted sense of comfort in Gwaine’s chest, and he felt the need to do whatever was needed to hear more of it.

“We’re outside of Camelot’s borders. There’s no need to worry about getting caught.” 

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken… sire. I have to go, sorry for any trouble,” the man is shifting to different branches in a clear attempt to move away from Gwaine. 

Gwaine did not want to let the man escape, “we’ve met before.”

That makes the other man freeze. “I don’t think so, I’m sure I’d remember meeting a knight of Camelot.” The humbled manner of speaking expected of those with lower status somehow seemed unnatural for the other man. 

“It’s Gwaine,” he presents his hand to shake as though that would be what convinces the other man to come down and speak to him, “and you are?” 

He finally gets down from the tree but keeps his distance, clearly preparing to run, “actually really busy. I have to go, sorry… Sir Gwaine.” He gives a slight bow of respect before turning to run away. 

Panicking, Gwaine takes a risk, “your eyes glow gold when you do magic!”

The other man stops in his tracks, not moving closer to Gwaine but not running away anymore either, “did you… could you see me earlier?”

Gwaine gulps, “I told you we’ve met before. I’m not sure how, but I know you. I’m sure of it.”

“I’m afraid you have the wrong person,” he says with tears threatening to spill from his eyes that tell Gwaine he definitely has the right person. 

The other man turns to run away again, but this time Gwaine follows. He’s waited so long to find the person who’s haunted his dreams and lingered in his waking days, and he refuses to let the man escape his grasp now. He catches up, and the smaller man struggles as Gwaine grabs his arm. 

His eyes start to glow a familiar gold as he opens his mouth and starts to speak in an unfamiliar language. Gwaine panics and covers his mouth, “wait please! I beg you just— just let me speak before you do anything drastic, yeah?” The man looks contemplative, and his eyes don’t fully revert back to their familiar blue right away. “I found you once. I’ll keep searching each time until I find you again. Please. You’re important to me, I just need to remember how.”

Silently, the man nods, before looking over to the rest of the group, “alright… but let’s go somewhere more private.”

…

They went far into the woods that surrounded them. There was a clearing with a set of logs and the remnants of a fire, which the magic man set back ablaze with a quick phrase in an unknown language. It all felt disconcertingly familiar, but to be fair Gwaine had camped in more than his fair share of wooded areas. 

The pair sat down, and surprisingly the other man started, “what do you want to know first?”

“A name would be nice.”

He hesitated, “it’s… Odwin”

‘Odwin’ was a terribly obvious liar, but in truth the name just sounded wrong on the other man’s tongue. “Try again,” Gwaine smiled and nudged the man’s shoulder, lightening the mood. 

He inhaled nervously before responding this time, “Merlin.”

The name brought Gwaine a rush of familiarity. Not recollections exactly, nothing he could make sense of. But he could hear the name from different voices in different tones, from lighthearted and sarcastic to the vague image of himself crying the name out in pain and fear. He knew this name so well so why couldn’t he remember-

“Are you the one who made me forget?”

The man—Merlin—was terrifyingly silent, only staring down at his hands. “I think you know the answer to that one,” he finally answers.

And suddenly the pieces come together.

_“Merlin” Gwaine hears his own voice, elated._

_They’ve come to this clearing before._

_Blue eyes turn to gold._

_“Wait, no—MERLIN” this time in agony-_

“How many times have we done this?” Gwaine’s voice trembles for what’s coming. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin answers, “I shouldn’t have gone this far.”

Gwaine can see what’s coming and panics, “I’m in love with you!” it makes Merlin pause, and he inconspicuously moves his hand to his hip under his cape, moving his other hand to Merlin’s face, “aren’t I?”

Merlin hardly moves his head to answer, so Gwaine instead takes the opportunity to kiss him as though to prove his theory. Merlin doesn’t move to join, but doesn’t fight him either. One hand still on his hip, Gwaine takes the opportunity to slowly unsheath the small blade at his side, then holds the dagger behind his back. Just at that time, Merlin gently presses his hands to Gwaine’s chest, lightly pushing him off his lips but not distancing them much more.

“Gwaine, wait, I’m sorry— I can’t—“

Gwaine moves his other hand from Merlin’s face down to his side, almost behind his back as well. “Please don’t do what I think you’re about to do,” but he begins to cry, knowing his pleas won’t change what’s about to happen. 

And a bit from the sharp pain of his dagger cutting a sharp line down his forearm. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says again before the world flashes around him. 

… 

Gwaine awakes feeling empty and lost. It’s certainly not the first time he’s felt this way, but he had hoped he’d moved past it. He remembers being happy once, sometime in the now distant past. He could hardly place how or when. And he wondered if there was a way to ever feel that way again.

As he gets up to face the pain of a new day, he feels it. A sharp sting on his arm. He looked down to see the injury he didn’t remember getting. 

A sharp, straight cut down the length of his forearm. Far too clean and purposeful to have come from a battle. He did this, but why?

He stares at the mark looking for answers. Until gold eyes and a name come to mind. In shock, he whispers, “ _Merlin._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! Less than a month between updates? Who even am I???  
> Not to get your hopes up but my last finals are tomorrow so we'll see if that helps make this a regular thing. I also started writing another Merwaine fic that I think is gonna be a twoshot, but this was only supposed to be 3 chapters and here we are, not even halfway done, rip. The comments in the last chapter were so lovely and encouraged me to write this one so fast, I really appreciate it <3\. Constructive criticism is appreciated too, I feel like I might be making everyone cry too much but also this whole situation is really upsetting you know? Idk, tell me what you guys think. Thanks for reading!


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